


Weaving the Incantation

by MrowSaystheCat



Series: Archangel, Dark Angel [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Here we go?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrowSaystheCat/pseuds/MrowSaystheCat
Summary: The Sunshine of Midnight





	Weaving the Incantation

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took a while; I hope it feels at least somewhat natural. It kinda wrote itself while I wasn't even thinking on it.

“I can be only what I am.” Daryl stated, watching Glenn’s back as he made for the doorway and the night beyond. He’d let the young man step forward, away; his last words hanging in the air before Daryl’s own voice had filled the gulf grown between them. He understood though; he got it. It was a hard thing, really; to accept new facts about a world you’ve lived your life in. Especially when that world was already turned on its ear once; and from there on, it was nothing but hard knocks. He remembered his own time of discovery, when it had all come crashing down around him. How long ago had that been? Daryl couldn’t really recall; he’d been someone else, all those years ago – and that man? He was long since dead and gone. That world had washed away; though there were still bits and pieces visible. Life was forever building upon the wreckage of the dead, gone or lost. Or, well; perhaps it was better said that what felt ‘dead, gone or lost’ had merely transformed itself in order to continue forward. That was the better way to see it, anyway – though hard, when one was young and still struggling with the first of a thousand capsizes. Or, the worst yet thereof. 

“You haven’t told me yet, what you are.” Glenn had stopped; in the doorway, hand along the frame. Holding gently; fingers loose as he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes found Daryl in the shadows, watching as the older man’s eyes seemed to glow back at him.

“Shouldn’t need to.” 

“I want to hear it, though.” He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it would be easier to deal with, if there were no words attached to it. Not in reality. Even if it was starting to puzzle itself together in his head. How could it not? He’d felt those sharp teeth as they’d latched in his skin; felt the rush of his blood like a tide towards lips that pulled, the thump of his heart as it tried to meet that demand. Seen a colorful world as it cascaded along his senses; things he’d never known on his own, sights he’d never experienced. It changed through a sea of ages; rising and falling, shifting and restructuring. Things recognizable only from history books, convoluted from the words, a truth of perception had only by one who had lived the moment. A thousand stories building in one soul. What else could it mean? 

Glenn closed his eyes, turned his head again; he could feel the wind as it blew, balmy and full, across the ruined threshold. He waited; letting the darkness and the quiet wash over his senses the way the pictures from Daryl’s mind had.

“Vampire.” Was finally the answer from behind him, and there the other was again; hand beside Glenn’s on the door-frame, the heat of him so close to his back. The young man could feel a smile forming on his own lips; it was laughable, wasn’t it? But, he knew Daryl wasn’t lying. What else had fangs like that? What else could paint memories and dreams like crystal clear vision across the soul? Then, he felt those strong arms take him again, pull him gently back in to the darkness of the house. He let his eyes open, feeling the brush of stubble once more. “Still gonna walk away?”

“I should. It would be the wise thing to do.” Glenn heard himself say, unable to help the words as they flowed out. Right along with the little chuckle; the grin riding easy across his lips so suddenly. Daryl moved with him more; a gentle, swift dance in to the truth of the shadows. Out of sight once more. Glenn felt them settle in place, and he let out a little sigh; resting his back against the chest pressed to it. 

For a long while, they were quiet. Glenn could hear the gentle thrum of his own pulse; like it was alive in the air around them, adding to the music of the night.

“You’re like a siren, ya know that, Kid?”

“And what? You’re just a moth to the flame?” The teasing. It came so easily; much like it did in the dreams he had. The place where he’d first learned Daryl’s name. Things seemed to be warping together, the world was a swirling haze.

“Yes.”

“You’re going to put that flame out then?” 

“Nah, gonna make it burn brighter.” Daryl’s teeth teased along his neck, and Glenn felt his breath hitch. He knew that the man could feed again, but it would make him too weak to move very far from the ruins they were in. At least now, he still had his feet. If he walked, he could go. If he remained, he might never leave. “Ya trust me, Sunshine?”

 _Glenn_. A voice brought him away from the moment. Again, it felt like he was drifting; but instead of being in the streets of Atlanta, in the recent past – he was standing in deep woods, next to a lake. He’d never been to this place before, like it was woven from dreams. Next to it, a small, slight woman stood. Her hair was easily recognizable. Carol. She was wrapped in a robe; simple and ornate in the same instance. Suddenly, there was a circle of familiar people around the small lake – all of them dressed much like Carol. He could see them all, even if they had to be so distant he shouldn’t be able to. 

_If you wish to go, we release you._ Together, the figures made a sweeping gesture, all in accordance with one another – assent? He stared out at them all; knowing the faces of Carol, Sasha, Tara, and the half-shrouded visage of Tyreese, whom they had lost. And was that Andrea, Amy and T-dog, too? Each shrouded, just like Tyreese. Glenn blinked at them, unsure of what was going on, what they were saying. _But if you need us, we are part of you, our brother._ Carol’s voice again. _He may have claimed you, but you are always our brother, before all things._

And with that, the vision cleared and Glenn was in the darkness again, wrapped in the heat of Daryl’s arms. His heart was thundering, his breathing quick. Daryl’s presence was like a rock to latch on to, and he let his hands slide along those arms once more; before he could drown in anymore wild sensations. 

“Do ya?” Another purr; rich in his awareness, dragging him back to the velvet assurances which the body at his back gave. For a moment, the entire world hung in the silence; a breath away from being washed under everything. He could feel waves crashing over his soul.

“Yes.” It was a bare whisper, and he turned his head so that he could brush his lips against Daryl’s cheek; a natural action, like breathing. Permission granted. The sharpness sank in, as the Vampire bowed his head from that soft kiss, to the tender skin which beckoned him close. To the pulse which washed the night under with a rhythm that could drown any soul who heard it. There was no great battle of wills, no struggle. It was all bliss; soft and sweet, wrapped in knowledge and shared experiences. Daryl’s fingers pressing over where Glenn’s heart raced, rapid and fragrant; then slowing, slowing – a gentle flutter that was so close to guttering out under his touch. He unlatched from that velvet, warm throat and then bit in to his own wrist; pushing it against Glenn’s lips. 

“Drink of me, and be mine always.”

The Kid did as he was bidden. Gentle, at first; then with more force, as if he wanted to drink Daryl down and they’d always be one. He let it happen for a moment, let Glenn be as greedy as possible; then he moved his wrist away, letting out a gasp as he did. He could feel the Kid’s heart kick back in, a wild beat that wanted to thunder out of Glenn’s chest. Before it slowed, gradually; that crawl coming back. Glenn’s face pressing gently against Daryl’s cheek once more, mouthing a soft question against his skin that only he could hear. Those deep brown eyes opening to glance at him, lazily; imploringly. Dreamily.

“Am I dying?”

“To be reborn.” 

His Sunshine of Midnight.


End file.
